Little Clay Horse
by kemasan
Summary: You were always waiting, and no matter what, he always came. Deioc


**_Disclaimer:_** Ugh, I dont own Naruto ...or you. Darn.

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**_Tap-tap-tap tippity-tap. _**

You stood behind the wooden counter taping the fingers of your right hand on the polished surface; your chin resting in your left. Your face shown a look of pure boredom as you peered around the small studio. Papers littered the floor and clay stuck to the walls. Pots, sketches, paintings, and sculptures filled the small shop.

That's right, you sold artwork for a living.

Lately, your muse was being good to you, helping you to produce two paintings, three small sculptures, and a beautiful vase if you say so yourself. But it didn't really matter. The majority of the small town you lived in favored more 'practical' things. This was mainly because agriculture was so popular there. Fields surrounded the small place that grew a variety of plants like soy beans and tea leaves. Then how, do you ask, did someone that wanted to sell artwork live in a place like this? Your grandfather was the reason. Ever since the moment you were born he decided that his mission in life was to show you how to express yourself. Your mother died during childbirth and you never met your father, so you lived with your grandfather. When he died, you inherited his studio and 'business'.

After reminiscing in the past for a while you stood up and looked down at your hands. Your fingers were covered in bandages where you burnt, cut, and scraped them from your various projects. The skin of your palms was rough and chalky from pottery you worked on a few hours before. Wiping some access chalk on your apron, you walked over to the window. Sunlight was poking through the blinds making the dust in the air visible. You slowly peeked outside, but no one was there. The small calendar on your wall shown the date AUG 1.

**_He_** would be coming today.

Every year around this time that man would come into the small shop and spend a couple of hours observing your creations. Most people would only stop in occasionally to see what you've done lately and leave. But he was different. He would look at each piece no matter how small and study it. Then he would look over to you and give you 'constructive' criticism. This was most likely followed by an argument about whether your work should really be considered art. He pissed you off, but somehow in the end, he could always make you smile.

You didn't want to admit it but over the years and times he visited, you slowly grew fond of him. Every time you learned something new about him, little quirks and habits for example. But you never found out his name. You almost missed the small sound of the bell on the door before looking up to see the familiar blonde.

"You're back."

"Un."

As he stepped inside you looked at him. The first time he came in you had to admit, you thought he might have been a woman. This was probably because of the hair being tied up in a ponytail, the nail polish, and what seemed to be mascara, but when he spoke it proved you wrong. Then the word 'thief' ran through your mind because of his attire. Not many travelers wear dark cloaks and hats like he did. But of all the times he stopped by you never noticed anything missing. You didn't mind his company, to tell the truth you looked forward to it. When he left you always had a new inspiration of some sort.

The man had already begun to look at your new creations and critize them. You merely gave a soft smile and headed up the steps to the flat you lived in upstairs. There you grabbed a small flask of sake and some cups then headed back down. You poured him a cup and took a seat. He sipped at it as he walked around for a while before taking a seat across from you.

"You've been busy, yeah?" he asked you.

"I knew you'd be coming soon."

"How did you know that, yeah? You can't be sure when I'm coming or not."

You looked up at him. "You always show up this time of year, why would now be any different."

"I don't have to come here you know." He frowned. "It's not like there's any point."

"Then why do you always come back?" You gave a sly smile.

"Hn." You had him stumped and you knew it. You sat your now empty cup on the counter and stood up. Any minute now he would start going on about how you could do better here or there, those colors don't go together, blah blah blah. Not to your surprise you were correct.

"That doesn't look like a fish, un. The bird's wing are crooked, yeah. You could do better." He was looking at your sculptures, they always seemed to be his favorite.

"Well I'm sorry if you don't think there up to par. But then again you don't really know me so how do you know if I could do better?"

"Your hands."

"What?"

"Your hands. They're rough and you have your fingers covered in bandages, un. That means you must have had a lot of practice." He grabbed one of your hands and raised it to your face.

You looked away madly. "I guess you could say that."

The man continued his little escapade through the shop. He continued to mumble under his breath until he suddenly stopped. Wondering, you walked up behind him. He was holding a tiny clay horse in his hands.

"That was my grandfathers." You told him. "He made it for me when I was small."

He just stood there staring at the smiling workhorse. The detail was amazing and beautifully crafted. The man who made this must have had years of experience. Sure, he was skilled at the art of sculpturing but that man was a master. Without speaking he sat the horse back on the shelf and turned to face you.

"Why do you keep that?" he asked you.

"What do mean? Why wouldn't I?" Your face shown confusion; your eyebrow raised.

"Why do you keep that, un. Your grandfather isn't alive, yeah?"

"Well, yes..."

"Then get rid of it. If it reminds you of him then it must bring you pain, un." He looked surprised when a wave of anger crossed your features.

"I keep it because I loved that man more than you'll ever know! I keep it because art lasts forever." Your eyes widened when a small smile graced his lips.

"You sound just like someone I know, hn." A sight blush crossed your cheeks, you had to admit he was kind of handsome when he smiled.

"Is that bad?" you asked him.

He put his hand on your shoulder. "I trust that man with my life and respect him very much." A small tapping noise caught your attention and you looked over at the window. Rain began to fall in drops hitting the glass.

You slowly turned away from him and looked outside. "Why do you really come here?"

"Hn?"

"You never answered my question before." You stated not turning around.

You gave a small gasp when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. "I guess something caught my eye, un." He whispered in your ear softly. Before you could protest you felt his lips on your cheek. His arms slid away as he stepped back. "I should get going, yeah." He headed towards the door but you stepped in front of him before he could reach it.

"Please, wait a minute." Your face was still flushed from a moment ago. "Let me get you something for the road." He gave you a small nod and you headed upstairs.

You grabbed a few things that he might need, but wouldn't be too difficult to carry. You weren't really sure how far he had to go. As you walked back down you called out to him.

"You know, I never caught your name-"

As you reached the foot of the stairs you saw that studio was empty. A sight breeze brushed the hair out of your face as it passed through the now open door. He left without even saying goodbye.

You sighed and slumped your shoulders as you sat the provisions on the counter. You leaned back against it and looked around. "Never even learned you name..." you mumbled to yourself. Something caught your eye, or something not there you should say.

"No way, where is it?" The little clay horse was gone. Tears began to swell in your eyes when you saw what sat in its place.

A small clay rose.

You would learn his name someday, but you would just have to wait. It seemed that your muse was being good to you, and now you knew who they really were.

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Im not really happy with how that turned out, it seemed a bit rushed to me...don't kill me I've never really read or seen anything with Deidara in it. But I do know a lot about him. My One Piece story will be worked on, dont worry. Ive just been really busy with my Kiba story on Quizilla.


End file.
